by carlyinrome
Thunderheart is one of my all-time top favorite movies, and it would be even if it was Val Kilmerless. Thankfully, we do not have this problem. But I love the movie so much that I even have non-Val-related images in here, and I spend time talking not only about the text, but also about historical significance and stuff like that. It's a good time.
There is going to be a lot of in-depth literary discussion in here, so I want to start us off with something kind of light. In a lot of his movies, Val Kilmer spends a lot of the time he's not speaking manipulating things with his hands: pens, poker chips, coins. In Thunderheart he doesn't. Possibly because this outlet was denied to him, he instead does weird things with his mouth. Occasionally he'll have gum or a hard candy or something in there, but sometimes he doesn't, and . . . well . . .
There is going to be a lot of in-depth literary discussion in here, so I want to start us off with something kind of light. In a lot of his movies, Val Kilmer spends a lot of the time he's not speaking manipulating things with his hands: pens, poker chips, coins. In Thunderheart he doesn't. Possibly because this outlet was denied to him, he instead does weird things with his mouth. Occasionally he'll have gum or a hard candy or something in there, but sometimes he doesn't, and . . . well . . .
It becomes something of a theme. Thoughts?
The movie starts off doing several things very well. To start, they do an excellent job of showing the differences between the physical landscape Ray is leaving and the one he is going to. How loud and busy and polished DC is, compared to the quiet and barrenness of the Badlands. (They even, in the little snippets of radio chatter that Ray flips past while looking for good music for his commute, mention that it's ninety-percent humidity. Oy. Enjoy the desert, Ray!)
The movie starts off doing several things very well. To start, they do an excellent job of showing the differences between the physical landscape Ray is leaving and the one he is going to. How loud and busy and polished DC is, compared to the quiet and barrenness of the Badlands. (They even, in the little snippets of radio chatter that Ray flips past while looking for good music for his commute, mention that it's ninety-percent humidity. Oy. Enjoy the desert, Ray!)
(Doesn't he look nice in his suit?) I am always kind of stunned by how Ray's daddy issues are introduced. Dawes calls Ray into his office to tell him he's being reassigned. But first he asks Ray about his father. It's one of the first things he says; he asks how he is, and tells Ray that he's a good man. Then, not a minute later, Dawes tells Ray that, "Your real father was half [Sioux]." It's so amazingly cold and ballsy, to tell someone they don't know who their father is, especially after lauding the man they think of as their father; it's obvious that Ray's stepfather is well-regarded by the FBI brass; he's part of the In Crowd. Ray is upset, and he tries to deflect the issue when Dawes asks follow-up questions, and Dawes repeatedly corrects Ray's deflections. He basically tells this man that he doesn't know who his own father is; it's really brash, and it shocks me every time, but it also does a good job of establishing right off the bat that the FBI establishment does not think of Ray the way that he thinks of himself. His stepfather may be one of the boys, but he isn't. It helps you understand why they're so willing to use him.
The Aboriginal Rights Movement (ARM) is based not-so-subtly on the American Indian Movement (AIM). ARM's emblem is an eagle feather in a circle:
The Aboriginal Rights Movement (ARM) is based not-so-subtly on the American Indian Movement (AIM). ARM's emblem is an eagle feather in a circle:
AIM's emblem is a peace sign/Indian head, also in a circle:
Historically the FBI and AIM have not gotten along. The worst clash between the two groups happened in 1973 at Wounded Knee in South Dakota. To commemorate the slaughter of American Indians there in 1890 (where Thunderheart died, and what Ray has a vision of), AIM pretty much took the town by force. The FBI was called in to mediate, shots were fired from both sides; two AIM members were killed and many others wounded.
For the most part, Thunderheart is really good in their representation of the Sioux, but they start off on such a bad foot! Ray gets to South Dakota; he is in the airport waiting for Coutelle to pick him up, and he's looking at what are, I imagine, supposed to be Sioux artifacts in a glass display case. But the traditional dress Ray is looking at is not Sioux. It's got salmon on it. The Sioux are horse people; they hunted buffalo and elk. There are no salmon in that damn desert. The salmon people are further west, in Washington and Oregon.
(And while we're talking about horse people, let's segue briefly and get talking about Sherman Alexie's How to Write the Great American Indian Novel out of the way. Let's see how Thunderheart does:
The hero must be a half-breed, half white and half Indian, preferably from a horse culture. . . .
Indians always have secrets, which are carefully and slowly revealed.
Yet Indian secrets can be discolsed suddenly, like a storm.
Indian men, of course, are storms. They should destroy the lives
of any white women who choose to love them. . . .
White women dream about half-breed Indian men from horse cultures. . . .
There must be one murder, one suicide, one attempted rape.
Alcohol should be consumed. Cars must be driven at high speeds.
Indians must see visions. White people can have the same visions
if they are in love with Indians. If a white person loves an Indian
then the white person is Indian by proximity. White people must carry
an Indian deep inside themselves. Those interior Indians are half-breed
and obviously from horse cultures.
everybody is a half-breed struggling to learn more about his or her horse culture.
There must be redemption, of course, and sins must be forgiven.
Okay, so Thunderheart meets some of the criteria. Does this mean I love it any less?
Sadly, no. No, it does not. But that's probably because I am a white woman, and I love half-breed Indian men from horse cultures.)
(And while we're talking about horse people, let's segue briefly and get talking about Sherman Alexie's How to Write the Great American Indian Novel out of the way. Let's see how Thunderheart does:
The hero must be a half-breed, half white and half Indian, preferably from a horse culture. . . .
Indians always have secrets, which are carefully and slowly revealed.
Yet Indian secrets can be discolsed suddenly, like a storm.
Indian men, of course, are storms. They should destroy the lives
of any white women who choose to love them. . . .
White women dream about half-breed Indian men from horse cultures. . . .
There must be one murder, one suicide, one attempted rape.
Alcohol should be consumed. Cars must be driven at high speeds.
Indians must see visions. White people can have the same visions
if they are in love with Indians. If a white person loves an Indian
then the white person is Indian by proximity. White people must carry
an Indian deep inside themselves. Those interior Indians are half-breed
and obviously from horse cultures.
everybody is a half-breed struggling to learn more about his or her horse culture.
There must be redemption, of course, and sins must be forgiven.
Okay, so Thunderheart meets some of the criteria. Does this mean I love it any less?
Sadly, no. No, it does not. But that's probably because I am a white woman, and I love half-breed Indian men from horse cultures.)
Coutelle tells Ray that he reminds him of, "Sal Mineo in Arrows on the Prairie." This is an intra- and extratextual joke, like jokes about Viola in The Twelfth Night. I should mention that, if the Internet is to be believed, there's no movie called Arrows on the Prairie, starring Sal Mineo or otherwise. It's still a joke, though. Sal Mineo was an Italian-American actor; Arrows on the Prairie would have been a spaghetti western, and, as a dark-complected Italian, he would have most certainly been playing an Indian. Intratextually, the joke is that Levoi is kind of a fake Indian, a close-enough approximation. Extratextually, it's a rib at Kilmer as a casting choice; while Val is a quarter Cherokee, he's far from full-blooded Indian, and he's blonde. (With American Indians especially, phenotypic variation in mixed children is huge. Being blonde and a quarter-Indian is not that unusual, but still, a lot of people's kneejerk reaction to Val Kilmer playing part-Indian was far from positive. If you don't believe me, go visit Thunderheart's IMDB page.) And as added fun, "Sal" rhymes with "Val." This is the joke that keeps on giving.
Names are so important in this movie. Coutelle continues to call Ray, "Sal," his fake little Indian. Ray earns Crow Horse's ire when he calls him, "Geronimo;" later, trying to distance himself from the fury injustices against the Sioux have stoked within him, he calls Jimmy "Tonto." Coutelle calls himself "John Wayne." Coutelle constantly mixes up Indian surnames, calling Crow Horse "Crow Foot." He also makes up an Indian name for Ray on the fly, calling him "Little Weasel" (which Crow Horse later perverts to "Little Weiner;" I don't think I need to explain that one.) To Coutelle, all Indian names are equally ridiculous; they might as well be interchangeable. And Ray is his Indian; he can change his name when and how it suits him. Richard Yellowhawk calls Ray "the Washington Redskin;" Crow Horse calls him "hoss." White FBI agents (and Crow Horse and Maggie, but only when they're really irritated) call Ray "Chief." Milton and Crow Horse both call Ray "kola" (Sioux for "friend;" the word is used specifically to talk about a friendship in which both the friend, and the person they are a friend of, are male) but Milton uses it warmly -- if a little derogatorily; he tells Ray, "Good kola," the same way you'd tell someone, "Good boy" -- and Crow Horse always uses it as a barb.
And then there's "Sensitive Operations Unit." Whoo boy. What a euphemism.
Enjoy Ray's expression when he first hears Coutelle refer to him as "Little Weasel":
And then there's "Sensitive Operations Unit." Whoo boy. What a euphemism.
Enjoy Ray's expression when he first hears Coutelle refer to him as "Little Weasel":
Coutelle lies to Ray when he first tells him about Maggie, saying that she, "openly advocates systematic violence." And Ray knows that Coutelle lied (if not then, soon after); he tells Maggie that he knows she "consistenly vote[s] against violent action." Yet this is before Ray starts questioning his trust in Coutelle, and they never discuss it.
Just for the record? That whole magically knowing other things about a person thing (okay, I know Crow Horse isn't using magic, but it's . . . I don't know, extrasensory or something) totally works for me. They do the same thing in The Saint, and it works for me then, too.
Okay, I agree that Ray is kind of an asshole to Maggie Eaglebear there at the end of their first conversation. He pushes some of her buttons. What I think is less obviously is how much she hurts him. She starts out teasing him, just giving him a hard time, but she keeps pressing him about who his family is even after it's apparent he's uncomfortable. There's no way she could know about his daddy issues, but it's not until she demands to know who his father is that he really crosses the line. And you can tell that he knows better, but he just snaps.
LOL, it took me seeing this movie like three times before I realized that, in his report to DC, when Ray says, "SA Levoi" what he means is, "Special Agent Levoi." Also, those are goods hands to have.
Coutelle on Crow Horse: "He plays with FBI heads. That's his MO." I wonder if Crow Horse has really been fucking with Coutelle -- though I doubt it, since Coutelle doesn't recognize him when he comes to move Leo's body -- or if he is just nervous that Ray's "fraternizing" with the Indian cop has gotten him closer to figuring out that LooksTwice is not their man. (Also, how jealous am I of the name "LooksTwice?" Like Lester FallsApart, it makes me want an Indian name super bad.)
"We're trying to build a case here, Ray. Get tape." I am just constantly impressed and delighted at how well this movie is constructed. They set up everything. Coutelle tells Ray to get tape. Later, at Grampa's, Ray demonstrates that he's been taping every little thing since then. Just. So good.
My God, "prairie niggers." The first time I heard that I just stopped, stunned. "I'm sorry, what?" Like in Gran Torino when the Hispanic gang calls the Hmong gang, "rice niggers." Like there are only two categories: whites and niggers. Unbelievable.
I also really enjoy that he says it right to Ray's face. Such good direction in this movie, even in little things like that.
LOL It took me several viewings of this movie to realize what actually goes on when Crow Horse pulls him over. At first I thought he used the ticket as an excuse to talk to him, and that it was a blackmail thing; you can come with me to talk to Grampa, or you can pay this ticket. But now it's apparent that there's no choice: you can pay this ticket, and you can follow me to Grampa's. Excellent.
Coutelle on Crow Horse: "He plays with FBI heads. That's his MO." I wonder if Crow Horse has really been fucking with Coutelle -- though I doubt it, since Coutelle doesn't recognize him when he comes to move Leo's body -- or if he is just nervous that Ray's "fraternizing" with the Indian cop has gotten him closer to figuring out that LooksTwice is not their man. (Also, how jealous am I of the name "LooksTwice?" Like Lester FallsApart, it makes me want an Indian name super bad.)
"We're trying to build a case here, Ray. Get tape." I am just constantly impressed and delighted at how well this movie is constructed. They set up everything. Coutelle tells Ray to get tape. Later, at Grampa's, Ray demonstrates that he's been taping every little thing since then. Just. So good.
My God, "prairie niggers." The first time I heard that I just stopped, stunned. "I'm sorry, what?" Like in Gran Torino when the Hispanic gang calls the Hmong gang, "rice niggers." Like there are only two categories: whites and niggers. Unbelievable.
I also really enjoy that he says it right to Ray's face. Such good direction in this movie, even in little things like that.
LOL It took me several viewings of this movie to realize what actually goes on when Crow Horse pulls him over. At first I thought he used the ticket as an excuse to talk to him, and that it was a blackmail thing; you can come with me to talk to Grampa, or you can pay this ticket. But now it's apparent that there's no choice: you can pay this ticket, and you can follow me to Grampa's. Excellent.
I really like that Grampa Reaches sees Ray when the FBI comes for Jimmy, and then he goes out and tells Crow Horse that Ray is really important, and he needs to look after him and help him and give him baby Indian lessons. The whole thing just makes my heart grow three sizes.
Crow Horse is really pissed off when they leave Grampa's trailer. I wonder if this is when Grampa tells him the whole Why Ray is Important thing, or if he's just pissed at Ray for being obtuse. Why aren't I omnilingual? That would really come in handy about now.
This is Ray's I'm going to get my way face. LOVE.
Everybody knows. Everybody knows. Grampa Reaches knows, Maggie knows, Jimmy knows. It's terrible that they trust the government so little that they know this horrible thing and cannot tell anyone, even this new "Indian FBI" who's supposed to be there to help them. Even once she trusts Ray, Maggie does not tell him what's going on. She leads him in the right direction, but she never directly tells him anything other than the water's contaminated.
Everybody knows. Everybody knows. Grampa Reaches knows, Maggie knows, Jimmy knows. It's terrible that they trust the government so little that they know this horrible thing and cannot tell anyone, even this new "Indian FBI" who's supposed to be there to help them. Even once she trusts Ray, Maggie does not tell him what's going on. She leads him in the right direction, but she never directly tells him anything other than the water's contaminated.
"You better put your boy on a leash!" To quote Holly, this scene is a gift to all my aesthetic sensibilities. I've got the vapors.
"Were you hit?" "NO." It would have been better if he'd been the one shot. He's so angry; when Coutelle corners him, he paces like a caged animal. He's too angry to be still. Ray knows bad things happen; he knows justice isn't always, you know, just. But this is the first time he's confronted with his own impotence to make things right, and he is so furious he is unable to control himself. Coutelle has to sit him down, and stand by and guard him to make sure he doesn't go off his tether again.
Where did he get that truck?
Where did he get that truck?
LOL, having lived in the desert, I cannot tell you how amusing I find Ray's drinking milk. "Well, it's a hundred degrees out, and I'm basically chugging down sandy cottage cheese, but dammit if I'm not white bread as all get out!" (Also: Shapeshifter!)
I love how absolutely everything is explained by Grampa Reaches' visions. Beautiful.
"You must go as two." Ray needs Crow Horse to go with him because he doesn't know what the uranium drilling is when he sees it. And Crow Horse needs Ray to go because he doesn't have the jurisdiction, and because he's so upset about the uranium and the river that he does not see the coyotes; he needs Ray to find Maggie.
"It's okay; I know you're scared. Just don't be scared." I love this part. Crow Horse is irritated by these Baby Indian lessons, and mostly just enjoys the parts where he gets to rile Ray, but dammit if the Fed isn't growing on him. Ray pulls a gun on him, and Crow Horse just rides it out, trying to talk him down. The love. Oh yes, there's love.
"Can you tell me what's really going on?" He still trusts Coutelle; he is starting to distrust his own sanity, but he still trusts Coutelle. It's hard for him to ask, but he does it; he's sure Coutelle will show him north, help him find sense and himself again. And this vulnerability, this plea for help, gets him shot at. Boy, did you ever back the wrong horse, baby.
Ray doesn't tell Maggie about his father to get her to do what he wants. Well, not just for that. He likes her, and he trusts her, and . . . also, he just wants to. He remembers his father, and he wants to tell somebody about him.
Maggie tells Ray where he needs to go, but not what he'll find there. And she gives him the charm because she knows she might not be coming back, and she likes him. She wants to leave him with something. It's maddening; she likes him, and she trusts him, but she still can't tell him.
Maggie tells Ray where he needs to go, but not what he'll find there. And she gives him the charm because she knows she might not be coming back, and she likes him. She wants to leave him with something. It's maddening; she likes him, and she trusts him, but she still can't tell him.
The scene with Jimmy in Grampa's trailer is perfect. Jimmy explains everything. "It's about power, Ray." The fact that Ray is not yet in the right headspace to understand everything is far beyond the point.
Ray's getting in fights again. He is out of tether.
Ray's getting in fights again. He is out of tether.
He has an out. He has an out, and you can tell how badly he wants to take it, but he can't.
An owl. For Maggie.
One thing I really like about this movie is how good it is at making you understand both sides of every argument. What Coutelle does is wrong, but it's obvious that he thinks what he's doing is best for the country, even best for the people he's screwing over. What Milton is doing is wrong, but he thinks it's the only way to keep the reservation peaceful. What Richard Yellowhawk does is wrong, but it's the only way he can buy his freedom. The Aboriginal Rights Movement is violent, but they have done legitimate good for the community. There are no black hats; every wrong action was bought at a price, and the price is explained. "Tough call all the way around, enit Ray?"
Everything is accounted for. Everything means something. Ray makes Yellowhawk get out of the chair so he can watch him walk; he has to walk plantigrade because of the damage to his knees. God, so good.
An owl. For Maggie.
One thing I really like about this movie is how good it is at making you understand both sides of every argument. What Coutelle does is wrong, but it's obvious that he thinks what he's doing is best for the country, even best for the people he's screwing over. What Milton is doing is wrong, but he thinks it's the only way to keep the reservation peaceful. What Richard Yellowhawk does is wrong, but it's the only way he can buy his freedom. The Aboriginal Rights Movement is violent, but they have done legitimate good for the community. There are no black hats; every wrong action was bought at a price, and the price is explained. "Tough call all the way around, enit Ray?"
Everything is accounted for. Everything means something. Ray makes Yellowhawk get out of the chair so he can watch him walk; he has to walk plantigrade because of the damage to his knees. God, so good.
"I'm the fucking law!" Ray's breaking point, where he's realizing just how hard he's been played by people he trusts, and the murderer he's speaking to says, "You're not the law." Ray just snaps, pulling out his gun and driving the man against the wall, growling, "I'm the fucking law." He may be a mutt, and he may be going a little crazy, and he may be losing everything he's ever valued, but goddammit, he's still the fucking law. Gorgeous. Just gorgeous.
Poor Crow Horse. He's been teaching this half-breed from the Ivy Leagues how to be an Indian, putting up with all his crap, and then the damn kid has himself a vision.
Fucking coyotes. Little bastards.
Oh, God, when he finds Maggie it just breaks my heart. He's just so quiet, and fidgety; he doesn't know what to do. This whole time he's had this enormous rage guiding his hand through injustice, but now that won't help anything, and he's just . . . lost. And he's on the ground, and he keeps looking up at Crow Horse like a child looking up at their parent, like he can do something to fix this; you could tell how much I weigh by looking at my tracks in the sand, and Maggie believed in shapeshifting so maybe she can just change out of this; you people are magic why can't you fix this. And it's not superstition or blame, just pure blind hope, so it's devastating when it's answered with Crow Horse's tears.
Lest we forget Crow Horse is a bad ass.
Crow Horse's expression, when he figures out how much Ray knows, just kills me. He likes Ray by now, but he still underestimates him. He's a smart kola. And now that he's got his rage back, he has this great clarity guiding him. It's a beautiful thing. (Also, LOL, he's still wearing Ray's sunglasses.)
Crow Horse is terrified. Ray is out for a Sunday drive. I really, really enjoy, though, how Crow Horse talks to Ray the way he did after Ray had the vision of his father by the campfire, "whoa," "easy," horse calming words, even though he's the one that's scared this time.
"What do you want?" It's absolutely inconceivable to Coutelle that Ray could be motivated by a higher morality than a cushy job with a nice paycheck.
Look at his legs shaking. He's so overwhelmed he can't be still.
When Coutelle gets testy, he makes Indian slurs. "You're going to be eating fry bread and dog soup for many moons." "I can either help you, or I can send you back to your ancestors." It's a psychological crutch, mentally putting Ray in his place, but oh my is it the wrong tack here.
"What do you want?" It's absolutely inconceivable to Coutelle that Ray could be motivated by a higher morality than a cushy job with a nice paycheck.
Look at his legs shaking. He's so overwhelmed he can't be still.
When Coutelle gets testy, he makes Indian slurs. "You're going to be eating fry bread and dog soup for many moons." "I can either help you, or I can send you back to your ancestors." It's a psychological crutch, mentally putting Ray in his place, but oh my is it the wrong tack here.
"You have to do what old man says!" Grampa and Ray, I am one hundred percent sure, did not plan any of this out in advance. But Ray has faith now, and Grampa told him to run for the stronghold, and so he did.
Even the costuming is thoughtful! Ray goes from super-starched in a suit, tie, and jacket to a faded black t-shirt and jeans. Everything about this movie is smart!
Grampa! Good trade this time, huh, kola? Maybe you're Indian enough now that they'll stop fucking with you.
Still. No promises.
Still. No promises.
I've said it before, but the only thing I don't like about this movie (besides that salmon shirt) is the ending. At the ending, after all he's been through, Ray is still at a crossroads. I think he should have graduated by now, don't you? I want him to be a real boy!